


Weak Against the Elements: Makoto Niijima vs. Wishful Thinking

by myaami



Series: Weak Against the Elements [5]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Daily Life Outside the Metaverse, Elemental Weakness, Gen, Humor, Persona-user problems, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-01-14 21:06:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myaami/pseuds/myaami
Summary: Makoto doesn’t believe in predicting the future, yet her nose knows better than anyone that sometimes the supernatural is at play.(Part 5 of 8, sometimes your weakness defies all logic.)





	Weak Against the Elements: Makoto Niijima vs. Wishful Thinking

“Bless you, Niijima.”

“Thank you.” Makoto sniffs into her handkerchief. “I think we can call it a day, everyone. Student council dismissed.” She puts her notes in her bag and practically skips out of the room before the others can get another word in. It’s not that she’s trying to avoid _them_ in particular, just their subject matter.

Too bad for her, before she’s fully out of the room the remnants of their conversation reaches her ears, “—like I was saying, as long as it doesn’t rain this weekend, I’ll be thrilled!”

Makoto sneezes again and shuts the door.

She’s tried to apply logic, but she reaches the same odd conclusion every time: it started when she awakened her Persona, these sudden sneezing episodes. None of the other Thieves have sneezing fits triggered by anything other than pollen, so Makoto must be unique in that sense. And the trigger is itself of a supernatural nature: mere spoken words rivaling the power of a Psiodyne beam in the Metaverse.

If she had to give it a name, she’d diagnose herself with a case of Clairvoyant Sneezes, her psychic weakness manifesting when people make wishy-washy predictions about the mundane and sometimes immutable things of the future.

In the student council meeting for instance, her classmate would just not stop talking about the weather this weekend and wishing for the best, which was enough to set off her nose. As student council president, she had the authority to end the meeting and high-tail it out of there before it got any worse. Besides, Haru is waiting for her at the front gate, so she had a more down-to-earth excuse as well.

A few students still linger in the hallway as Makoto makes her way to the front of the school; mentally, she prepares by clearing her head. In the time since she started carrying around a small pack of emergency tissues, she’s found that if she doesn’t listen too closely to those around her, she won’t hear their fancies, and is less likely to be triggered.

When an exhausted-looking student passes Makoto in the hall bemoaning ‘I wish I didn't have practice everyday,’ a light sneeze escapes her. She hurries past.

Who is she kidding, it’s even _more_ difficult to clear her thoughts when there are fewer people around, leaving her with little else to focus on.

The hall doesn’t remain sparse for long though—she can’t win, can she?—a group of students walk beside her on their way to where the most recent test scores are posted. Makoto tries humming to drown them out.

“How do you think you did on the test?”

“I have no idea, really. I didn’t study, so my guess is, pretty bad...”

“Wanna bet?”

She only gets a slight itch in her nose this time. It doesn’t always happen; it’s random, completely out of her control. She’d never put much stock in fortune tellers and psychics, but the stochasticity of her weakness contradicts all she knows about the order of things.

“Makoto!”

More often than not, she's living in her own little bubble, trying not to eavesdrop—although she has definitely done so from time to time when she deemed it absolutely necessary, like when she stalked Akira back in June. This has the unintended side effect of being caught off guard, just like Psio beams did until she got the hang of dodging.

“Makoto?” A hand touches her shoulder.

“Oh, Haru! I was lost in my thoughts again.”

“I bet. Thinking about math or history?”

“History, in a way,” she says, pondering the lessons learned from her current dilemma. “In order to build a more informed future, we must first understand the present.”

“You’ll be a great scholar someday, Makoto. I only wish I was as dedicated to academics as you are.”

Her nose itches.

“You’re pursuing other passions, Haru, like gardening and cooking! Someday I bet—”

Makoto gasps. She forgot. Forgot! Even her _own_ wishful thinking has the potential to ruin her. She scratches furiously at her nose and tries again. “What are you going to cook for our girls night tonight?”

It’s not always this bad, her weakness. Sometimes the effect is dampened, for which she thanks Johanna for being strong enough to shoulder some of the burden so Makoto doesn’t have to.

After she diagnosed the cause of her weakness, Makoto never thought she would ride subway again, what with all these people making their daily commute. But she’s actually found it to be quite nice. Most people just keep to themselves. That is, except for Shibuya Station.

“People want change! Just imagine a world…”

“Wish you had grabbed your rain coat at home? Never fear, umbrellas sold here!”

“ _So, we roll the dice, see where they may fall_ ,” a beautiful voice sings out, rising above all the others in the square. “ _Come on, why don't we spin the wheel, see whom it may call_.”

Haru giggles in delight, “Oh, a street performer! Let’s listen, Makoto!” and guides her to a large group gathered around a woman with an electric guitar and a voice that pierces the heavens—

_“To_ _give into temptation! To win it, or maybe lose it all?_ "

—but the lyrics are too predictive, too vague. Makoto’s starting to feel the itch in her nose but the crowd is already pushing and moving her and she has no choice but to be swept away.

“ _Who knows where the whims of fate may lead us_.”

The itch spreads through her head and she can’t hold it in and it’s so very out of control that when the singer pauses poignantly between verses, Makoto’s ground quaking _achoo!_ is as loud as a glass shattering.

After another pregnant pause, the crowd makes room for Makoto as she gently pushes through them and fishes a tissue out of her bag. She’s never been more embarrassed in her life. If only she could clear her mind... but that is really just wishful thinking, after all.


End file.
